


What Is The Purpose Of Relationships?

by sherjohkalakuh



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Fluff, Love, M/M, Porn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-29 00:21:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherjohkalakuh/pseuds/sherjohkalakuh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock thinks about how John has been trying to get a date, and curiously asks why he would even want one. Information is stored in, and the next day Sherlock discovers something he can't get away from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Is The Purpose Of Relationships?

**Author's Note:**

> My first published piece of work. I have seen every episode of season one and two at least four times, so I really hope I can keep the characters kept in character. (Ha. see what I did there.) Anywho, I would be delighted to know all who have read it think fondly of it. Please enjoy! ((The smut is towards the end of the story. Sorry I'm just kind of new at writing it so um..Yeah.))

John blinked and leaned forward in his assigned chair as if it could help him hear better as the material of the newspaper ruffled and folded in his lap. " _What?_ " He asked whilst facing his flatmate, just to make sure. He put the newspaper aside and put his full attention to Sherlock.

The now annoyed detective grunted and layed face up on the couch with his fingers just barely touching his chin, eyes closed. "I said, 'What is the purpose of romantic relationships?'." He repeated in an almost mocking voice and remained still on his back. "Honestly, John. Do keep up." He added, his annoying and childish tone still very intact. John leaned back in his comfortable chair, his right foot pulled up to rest on his left knee. He would've been insulted by that little comment, but John knew far better than to let that get to him.

"Well," He tried to begin explaining, "some people choose to go on dates and have relationships to soothe loneliness. Others might have relationships to take care of sexual needs, or to explore new possibilities. In the end, people were created to love, Sherlock. They were made to love and to grow old with a partner they trusted, maybe even have children." John rubbed the denim material on his right thigh, swallowing nervously. "Might I ask why you wanted to know?" He said after a moment of silence. John turned his head to listen to Sherlock's response.

Sherlock stole a quick breath, mouth open to speak. "I was only curious, John." He said surprisingly slower than his usual far-too-fast-and-intelligent responses. "I noticed you have been trying to get a date yet again, so it had me thinking as to why you would even need one." He added and sat up quickly. Sherlock stepped into the kitchen. "Tea?" He asked, trying desperately to change the subject as he grabbed a mug out of the wooden cabinet.

John felt a small smile tug at the side of his mouth. He replied with gratitude, "Yeah, that'd be great." John was then curious knowing that Sherlock had the sudden interest. Maybe he had planned on asking someone?.. _No, no. This was Sherlock for crying out loud._  He had said from the beginning that he was married to his work, which was fine. But..Why had this been somewhat of a dissapointment for John?   
  
Sherlock sighed inaudibly and set the brass kettle down on the stove gently. He leaned against the cold surfaced counter and mindlessly stared at the kettle as he thought. He had so many questions for the whole dating scene; so much information was needed. He knew John would have the answers, but that would be suspicious. John was getting smarter and smarter everyday anyways..Not that he wasn't intelligent from the start, but still.  
  
Ah, John. He was quite a creature. He had tolerated Sherlock so kindly, (sometimes not so kindly). and had actually seemed to care. And unlike Mycroft, he wasn't as annoying and invading. John was a good man. The best. Sherlock's thoughts had been interrupted by a piercing whistle of the kettle, so he reached his hand out to prepare the tea. He poured the hot water into John's mug first, naturally. He put in the amount of sugar John prefered, and carefully held it in boths his hands. He carried it off to the next room and placed it on top of John's newspaper with a small smile. Sherlock plopped down on the couch, bringing his knees up to his chest. He watched John take a sip of the tea carefully, wanting, no, _needing_ to know if he had prepared it correctly.   
  
John thanked Sherlock with a small nod and a grin while simultaneously picking up the warm mug with both of his hands. He sipped on the tea silently and closed his eyes instinctively. He hummed as he set it back down with one hand and picked the newspaper up from underneath his mug smoothly. He glanced over to Sherlock and squinted his eyes. "What." He said as their eyes awkwardly met.

Sherlock blinked slowly and deduced that John did in fact enjoy the tea. He would need an alibi for staring at John then, since his question had been answered. "I was admiring your features." Oh for fu-..Did he really just say that outloud? Sherlock looked away and squeezed his legs in tighter subconsciously. 

John tilted his head to the side and pursed his lips. "Erm, thanks." He dismissed before clearing his throat. He unknowingly blushed slightly, a light hue of pink spread across his cheeks and nose. 

Sherlock held his breath, closing his eyes and regretting saying anything at all. There's a first. He stood from the couch, fingers twitching anxiously as he walked past John and ventured into his bedroom.

                                                                                                           >~*~<

The next day, John woke up, showered, dressed himself appropriately, walked out of the flat and left to spend his day at the clinic. Oh how much John loved staying inside all day, helping people with snotty noses and being vomited on endlessly. 

Sherlock, however, woke up two hours later. He decided to (sleepily) walk into the living room. He noticed how quiet the flat was and assumed that John had left for the clinic again. He sighed in dissapointment, feeling a bit empty.  
  
The detective landed on the couch on his back and propped his feet up on the arm. He closed his eyes, thinking of various things to pass the time. At first he thought of the last case John and him did together. He was proud of John's deductions, but knew he still had a lot to learn. It was almost too obvious how the maid had been killed, but the only other person to have figured it out in less than twenty four hours was John. It made Sherlock feel a sense of pride to know he had helped John learn to deduce.  
  
Soon his mind ventured to the day before, how John and him had talked about relationships. They were tedious, pointless, annoying, distracting..But Sherlock had never been in a proper relationship, so he wanted to experiment with it; to know how it felt to be in love. The people around him were absolutely revolting, so there was no option there. The only person he found enjoyable and worth his time was John.. John?  _John._ A smile spread across Sherlock's face. He pictured the shorter blonde. He had thought about him every day since they met and hopelessly, no, _miraculously_ enjoyed his company..It was all coming together in bits of pieces, but Sherlock had discovered something wonderful and terrifying at the same time: He loved John. Sherlock ran into his bedroom, landing stomach down on his bed and reached over to his nightstand to get his phone.

_  
John, you need to come back to the flat. Now would be appreciated_. -SH

  
John felt his phone vibrate in his right pocket and lifted his hips off his desk chair to pull it out easier. He leaned on his elbows, holding his cellular in both hands as he read Sherlock's text. 

**  
I get off shift in an hour; can't you wait just a bit longer?**

  
Sherlock blinked, checking the time on his phone. Hm. He had been lying on the couch for five hours. Oh well.

_  
No, I can't wait. I need you. Now._ -SH

  
**Sherlock, I can't just leave work so suddenly. It's unproffesional. Especially since there's only _one hour_ left to go.**

  
Please. -SH

  
John sighed and banged his head on the desk. Sherlock very rarely said please, so it must've been important. He grunted and stood from his chair. The disgruntled doctor walked out of his office with his coat. He explained to Sarah that there was an emergency back at home with apologies, being excused. He reluctantly took out his phone from his pocket again as he walked down the hall. He decided Sherlock would make up for this big time. 

**Alright, Alright. I'll be back at the flat in fifteen minutes. Anything you need while I'm out?**

_I'm fine. I just need you._ -SH

'I _just_ _need_ _you._ ' That made John's heart jump with a pounding kick of adrenaline. (John thought it was adrenaline, but it was actually a mixture of that with lust among other things. He hadn't been laid in months. _Anything_  along those lines would make him twitch with anticipation.)

**You're not hurt, are you?**

_I could be, depending on what you say_. -SH

**What the bloody hell are you talking about, Sherlock? I'm just around the corner.**  

Sherlock walked around the flat and turned off all of the lights as he knew John would be home in precisely two minutes. He walked back into the living room, standing in front of the window. He watched the streets for about a minute, then decided to close the curtain. He carefully and silently travelled into the kitchen and leaned against the chill counter. He took a deep breathe, trying to calm his nerves. His hands were shaking. _shaking._ He had never been so impatient or anxious in his life.

John got to the door of 221B and rushed to get his keys and to unlock the door. He stepped inside, locking the door behind him. John dashed up the stairs, quickly getting to the front door. He opened it, unsure of what was to come. He became confused to see the lights were all off, and it seemed empty. "Sherlock?" He yelled, walking into the center of the room as the light from the outside hallway illuminated the floor. Suddenly, the light was gone, and the door behind him had been shut. "Sherlock?" He said more quietly, a little more than a bit worried and concerned.  
  
Sherlock silently walked behind John, close but not close enough to where the smaller man would feel his hot breath. "You were worried. You care about me." He said in a hushed tone, feeling terrified and a little accomplished at the same time.

"For God's sake, Sherlock!" John snapped, turning around and taking two steps forward to get to the light switch, but was stopped when he accidentily knocked into his unbelievable flatmate. He swallowed and blinked quickly as he tried to see where he was. John reached his hand out and tried to find his way when he touched Sherlock's abdomen. Oh how tempted his was to punch him. He raised his hands up before seizing Sherlock's shoulders to move him out of the way.

Sherlock felt his body being pushed away by strong hands, but grabbed them and pulled the man in. He stood there closely, hot breath against John's forehead and fingers wrapped around his wrists, taking the pulse. Just as he expected: Quickened. "John, I know. I know you have feelings for me." He said in a lower tone than usual, closing his eyes as he felt John's chest rise and fall against his own.

John felt his mouth go immediately dry. His eyes dilated unknowingly. "Sherlock," He breathed, leaning into him now. "This, we..We can't," He tried, but felt long arms wrap around his shoulders and pull him in closer. He couldn't push away. He wouldn't.

" _John._ " Sherlock growled, secretly smelling his clean and comforting scent. " _Shut up._ " Sherlock let go, taking a step away from his flatmate.

John frowned slightly, reaching his hand out again. "Sherlock?" He asked, biting his lip. He felt his hand being grabbed by long and cold fingers, leading him further into the darkness. "Sherlock, wait," He whispered, unable to use all of his voice. God, where was this going? John knew he cared, but did he  _care_ ?..He wasn't pulling away, he wasn't fighting it.  _Oh God, he does care._ John swallowed, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He felt his heart pounding against his chest, and knew. It was all real. He had feelings for Sherlock. Strong, real feelings. 

Sherlock stepped into his bedroom across the hall with ease, his door already being open. "No." He hissed, squeezing John's hand tighter as he ventured into the middle of his room, closing the door behind him. "I've waited far too long." He added, just barely seeing John's face from the moonlight. He brought his right hand up to John's cheek, looking down at him. He rubbed the warm and flushed skin with his thumb slowly, softly. " _John._ " He purred, a small and gentle smile on his lips. "How?" 

"H-How what?" John whispered, his tongue swiping over his lips.

"How did you do this to me?" Sherlock replied, showing John what he meant. He pulled his hand away from John's cheek, instead bringing the other's hand to his chest. He could feel his heart aching now.

John took in a deep breathe slowly, a quick beat pushing against his hand. John looked up, just scantily seeing Sherlock's piercing yet warm eyes. He quickly reached up, pressing his lips onto Sherlock's. A wave of relief washed over him, hands wrapping around Sherlock as they pulled him in closer. His lips felt surprisingly soft, almost as soft as a woman's, but they were naturally rougher and just oh so inviting. He couldn't help himself.

Sherlock's eyes shot open widely, unsure of what to do. But soon enough, his eyes fluttered closed and he put his long arms around John's waist, returning the kiss. He pushed his mouth against John's a bit harder, parting his lips with a hot breath.

John hummed, smiling helplessly as his mouth reciprocated. He boldly licked Sherlock's bottom lip, earning a soft moan in approval. He moved it further, suddenly exhanging hellos with Sherlock's tongue. _Oh God_ , he was a fast learner. John grunted, all of a sudden it being way too hot in the room; clothes definitely unnecessary at this point. He broke the kiss, breathing into Sherlock's neck. He kissed the warm skin beneath his lips, teasingly licking and gently tugging on the skin with his teeth. 

Sherlock gasped, not knowing how sensitive his neck was until that moment. He bit his lip hard, fingers curling into John's shoulder blades. "John, _please_ , just.." He groaned, turning them around. He pushed John onto his bed, following after him. He straddled John's hips, leaning forward and kissing him again.

John worked at the buttons of Sherlock's dress shirt, pushing his hips up for some kind of friction, because  _fuck_ he really needed it. "Tell me what you want, Sherlock." He said in a husky voice, ripping the shirt off of the other man's shoulders and throwing it across the room. He sat up, an-  _Oh._ _That._ "Oh God." He moaned, their erections rubbing against each other through the god damned fabric.

Sherlock hissed, biting his lips again. A switch had been turned on in his mind. He made it his mission to strip John of all of his clothes. Quickly. He tugged John's shirt upwards, not waiting for him to lift his arms. Sherlock moved down, kissing John's chest impatiently. 

John mumbled profanities under his breath, his hands attacking Sherlock's belt. He got rid of the leather with a _swoosh_ , moving onto the zipper of his trousers. He felt Sherlock's hot breathe against his ear, rocking his hips again. He pushed Sherlock down strongly and forcibly, lifting his hips and ripping his black trousers and pants down all at once. John licked his lips, hands squeezing Sherlock's thighs tightly as he admired the generous length in between his legs. "You're so bloody gorgeous, Sherlock. God if I could, I would have you like this all the time." He groaned, leaning forward and pressing into Sherlock's chest, licking his earlobe. He smiled, feeling hot  flesh being pushed onto his stomach. Thank God he had decided to start going to the gym weeks ago. 

Sherlock moaned, precome already spreading against him. "Oh, Fu- _John._ " He gasped, so many new sensations he never even dreamed of almost overwhelming him. He snapped back into reality, working at getting rid of John's trousers and pants. Once complete, Sherlock immediately wrapped his fingers around John's prick, being rewarded with a filthy moan. He pushed John's hips down until their cores rubbed against each other, finally getting the friction they needed. Sherlock and John both groaned in unison and held onto each other tightly.

John squeezed the sheets beside Sherlock's shoulders in his hands tightly, his knuckles a ghostly pale white. He kissed Sherlock's mouth, deeply exploring every inch of that dirty little mouth. He could feel vibrations from the other man's mouth being thrown into him from all of the breathtaking moans, groans, and growls. John's hips glided downward and pulled back up with astounding pressure. He felt heat swirling in his stomach, and had to break the kiss to moan properly because  _jesus fuck_ that was beautiful.

Sherlock dug his nails into John's hot skin, biting the curve of his shoulder. "Oh God do that again." He demanded, pulsing his hips up for more. He wanted it all, everything that John could give. Sherlock needed this so bad, he was desperate. Once John rolled his hips again, Sherlock knew he had reached the point of no return. "Oh _John_ , I'm-.." He cautioned, feeling warm and wet lips crash against his own with a picked up pace. 

John moaned into Sherlock's mouth, his hips purposefully hitting the perfect spot for the both of them. "You're _mine,_ Sherlock. You're such a dirty little thing, but you're all I want; all I need. It's _delicious._ " He managed to breathe, sliding his cock against Sherlock's desperately. He felt Sherlock tug on his hair, which only heightened the sensation of it all. " _Come for me, Sherlock._ " He groaned in the most erotic and dirty tone ever known to mankind, licking the other man's neck. 

Sherlock groaned loudly, raising his hips up off the bed and nearly lifting John up. He clung onto John tightly, gnawing his shoulder (that would definitely leave a mark). " _JOHN"_ He yelled, feeling his orgasm take over his body completely. He arched his back, gasping for air as his fingernails scraped at John's back. His vision went white, everything coming undone as he moaned shamelessly against hot skin.

John bit down on his lip, not far behind. With two more rocks of his hips, John came while screaming Sherlock's name, never feeling better in his life. John's cock twitched as his come shot out against Sherlock's, words out of reach by two hundred and twenty one miles. Nothing could ever describe the ecstasy that surged through him.

Moments later, Sherlock woke up from his post-orgasm bliss and decided kissing John's mouth would be an excellent idea. Reluctantly, he had to stop before the now mixed come would dry. That was just a minor pet peeve of Sherlock that he could not bare. 

John breathed deeply, arms crossed over his chest and stomach. He couldnt help but smile loopily, knowing that he just fucking had  _sex with Sherlock Holmes._  

Sherlock returned to his room and carefully cleaned off John as he knew he might be sensitive. He layed next to John, arms and legs wrapping together in a perfect fit. The detective kissed John's temple and held him tightly. "You're the first." He mumbled into John's ear, happy that it was true.

John blinked his eyes open. "Really? You've never-?"

Sherlock chuckled tiredly, feeling well spent. "Not until just now, obviously."

John dove in, kissing Sherlock's mouth again. "You're just..God, Sherlock."

"I am no God, John."

"Shutup and kiss me." 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> .-. I wish that it could've turned out better for you guys. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed it~!


End file.
